


Quizzical

by rolypoly_panda



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Fever, Gen, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Klaus is trying his best, Light Angst, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Protective Allison Hargreeves, Sick Number Five | The Boy, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda
Summary: Five has been off all day. Allison suspected it was from a fever, something he picked up, immune system weakened from exhaustion. She could see it in the way he walked, the way he looked...But of course, it wasjusther luck that he would collapse while on a mission to stop Commission agents.BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO PROMPT: Vomiting
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Allison Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012239
Comments: 23
Kudos: 220





	Quizzical

**Author's Note:**

> All copyright content doesn't belong to me. All characters belong to Gerard Way and Netflix.

They had been running themselves ragged trying to round up the remaining Commission agents loyal to the Handler. According to Diego, Herb and Dot had reprimanded many of them already, but some had slipped through the cracks, either vowing to revive their now-deceased boss or to murder the Umbrella Academy. Luther, Diego, and Vanya had gone with Herb to ensure the Handler hadn't been brought back to life in another timeline, leaving Allison with Klaus and Five.

It had made her groan, initially.

The two had never gotten along well, even when they were kids. While Diego and Five had physically fought, Five and Klaus had always used to played mind games with one another, bickering about nonsense until the sun rose. Well, either that, or until their father had burst into their bedrooms and smacked them into shape…

Regardless of the past, Allison was stuck in the present, in the now that had Five and Klaus snarking at each other as they hurried to Allison's car, ready to chase down more stray Commission agents. She tuned out their bickering, grabbing her keys and rushing out the door after them.

The three of them had been scurrying around for weeks, and it showed. Klaus was _sober_ , for one, unable to find time to get high. His hands itched for a fix, and their chewing gum reserves were gone. Allison, herself, felt weighed down from the inside out, her muscles thick with exhaustion, her body heavy. She had looked at herself in the mirror earlier that morning and had seen the frazzled mess of the woman she had used to be. Long gone seemed to be her days of making movies and taking in cash; all her waking energy was spent towards taking down Commission agents before they could get to her brothers. And yet, despite how bad she looked, she always reminded herself:

_At least she didn't look as bad as Five._

It was a wonder he was even arguing with Klaus, what with the drag to his step, the pallor of his skin, the weakness leaving his whole body shaking. Allison was half-expecting him to collapse on the way to her car.

Five rounded to the driver's side. He held out his hand to her. "Keys."

Allison hurried past him. She yanked the door open, spitting out, "No way." If Five were as tired as he looked - which Allison had _highly suspected_ he was - there was no way she was letting him drive and risking a car accident. However, to save his pride and her sanity, she said, "It's my car. I'm driving."

Five took her response without complaint. "Fine." He stepped around the front of the car, only to collide with Klaus, both their hands reaching for the passenger seat's door handle.

Klaus whined, "Come on, Five, you always get the front seat."

"Get in the back, Klaus." Five glowered. His eyes narrowed.

And that was that.

Klaus scrambled into the back seat, slamming the door shut as Allison peeled out of the driveway. Five reached around and snapped his seatbelt into place as Allison took a wide turn, weaving in-and-out of traffic to reach their location. He leaned heavily into the belt, letting it catch him as she drove haphazardly through the city.

Eventually, Five sank into the seats. His breaths came quick.

She began, "Five, are--?"

"You're almost there." Five interrupted. Loudly, too, with his eyes fixed on the road. She knew he was intentionally avoiding...

Five had been off for days, now. It had started nearly a week ago, when he had dragged himself downstairs and into the kitchen with frizzy hair and a darkness to his eyes. He had hugged his coffee close but had barely taken a sip, something strange in itself, regardless of his quietness, his shivering fits, his weariness. As the days progressed, Five had looked more and more weathered by their daily missions, breathing heavier, sleeping harder, growing more and more pale.

Nevermind hearing him throwing up last night...

All week, Allison had hoped it was simple exhaustion. Now, she knew that wasn't the case.

She nearly ran a red, slamming on the gas then shifting to the break as she hugged a tight corner, speeding down the street. Her hands squeezed tight around the wheel until her knuckles turned white. Allison clenched her jaw. Her gaze leapt to Five, then to the road, then to Five again, watching as he seemed to crumble into himself right before her eyes.

_God,_ he looked _awful._ Allison's heart scurried into her throat.

After tirelessly working through the night, Five had narrowed the Commission agents down to a one-block radius. Then, their tapped police phones - which they had Diego to thank for - had given them their exact location: an apartment building where Vanya had stayed, once upon a time. The agents had been working with stale information, aged by nearly a decade, which was fortunate for them. The police had reported a noise complaint, of smashing and breaking in a supposedly vacant room by "two women in suits, both with guns, one wearing a cat mask, the other wearing a cheetah mask".

The tires on her car shrieked as she hit the breaks and pulled into park. Five was the first out, stepping into the road and nearly tripping over the sidewalk's curb. He ignored it, jogging up to the front door and heaving it open. Allison and Klaus followed suit. Inside, they crept up the stairs in unison, listening for the ruckus reported.

Only silence followed.

On the second landing, ready to round the staircase and head for the third floor, they all froze at the clatter of a metal pot on linoleum. Then, the slam of a cabinet. Allison glanced down at Klaus, who shrugged at her with wide eyes. She looked up to Five.

He was faced away from her, gripping the stairwell railing tightly, trembling hard enough for his teeth to chatter.

Allison frowned.

He started down the hallway towards the sound. Allison kept her eyes fixed on him. First, on the center of his back, where his shoulders were drawn tense, a rigid line that looked near-painful to uphold. Then, to the crown of his head, where she contemplated asking him what was wrong. He blinked fast and breathed faster, swaying slightly in step.

If it weren't for where they were, Allison would have grabbed him and stopped their mission right then and there.

Alas, they had a job to do. She had the other half of her family to protect from these bastards.

Five guided them to apartment number six. He paused in front of the door, his too-bright eyes locking with Allison's, then Klaus'.

He looked...feverish.

In her motherhood, Allison had found that children had always exuded a different kind of look when ill. Their bodies would carry the weight of it differently, as if instinctually, like their bodies _wanted_ to show all signs of sickness to those around them. Their eyes would glow with the illness, the fever eating them from the inside like a cancerous rot. Adults were better at hiding it, their age adapting to the pain, to covering it, to ignore it. But kids?

Not so much.

And as much as Five had insisted he was a grown-ass man - something Allison knew fully well, too - he was still in the body of a thirteen-year-old.

Five nodded to them. He reared back before lashing out, slamming his foot next to the door's handle. The structure caved upon impact, snapping the flimsy knob free and slamming the door inwards. Like deer caught in headlights, the two Commission agents froze, guns slung around their shoulders, useless pieces of trash in their hands, strewn about.

In a pop of blue, Five was gone.

Their guns were raised an instant later.

Klaus ducked. Allison ran. She dove for cover as the semiautomatics ripped apart the wall behind them. The gunfire was deafening, unrelenting, a relentlessly sharp _klackklackklack_ that wouldn't let her think, let alone utter a single word.

There was a break in the fire, then a wheeze, as if someone had been kicked.

Allison rushed into the doorway. Five had one pinned. The other woman had her gun to his forehead. Five was seething, teetering. " _Hey!_ " Allison shouted. The armed woman flipped around. " _I heard a rumor_ you forgot who you are and what you're doing here."

In a split second, the woman tensed. She pulled off her mask and whispered, "Where the fuck am I--?"

" _I heard a rumor_ you left here and forgot everything that you just witnessed." Her eyes flickered white, just for a moment, before she mechanically straightened out and began walking towards them. She dropped her gun on the way out.

Five, with his knee firmly planted in the spine of the other woman, reached forward and snatched it up. He ripped the magazine free and tossed both pieces opposite ways. "Allison…" he panted, voice shaking. "Rumor this bitch."

" _I heard a rumor_ you decided to start a new life away from the Commission and you want nothing to do with them ever again." she said, all in one breath. Her gaze caught on Five as he stumbled backwards off of her, catching himself on the edge of the counter.

The women's eyes flashed and, slowly, she pushed herself off the ground. Allison and Klaus stepped aside as the two former-agents stepped out of the apartment and into the hallway. Klaus, still half-curled into himself, rose to a stand and giggled, "Well, wow, am I glad I came along! I don't know what you two would do without me…"

"Oh, come on, Klaus." Allison turned, rolling her eyes.

"That shit's fucking _terrifying_." He folded his arms across his chest. His focus leapt to somewhere behind her. "Hey, Five-o. You good?"

Allison whipped around.

Five was teetering on his feet, looking as if he were going to pass out, his attention fuzzy. Quickly, Allison closed the distance between them, reaching forward--

He slapped her hand away.

Even that brief exchange had her hissing in sympathy. Five was kicking off a bruising amount of heat, a fever clear in both temperature and appearance as his eyes shined unnaturally, his skin too white, too translucent. Allison huffed, turning and walking back to the door. When Five didn't follow, she whipped around, snapping, " _Hey_. Let's go, Five."

Five blinked fast. He swallowed thickly.

Slowly, as if the floor would give out under him, Five made his way to the front door. He used the walls as supports, bracing himself as they made their way through the hall, down the stairs, and back outside again.

All in all, the mission had been quick. And now that it was done, Allison was ready to take them home and lay Five down, whether he wanted to or not. If he had gotten worse from a small altercation and a ten minute drive, then clearly, he was worse for wear. She didn't need him collapsing again because, as much as she loved Klaus, she doubted her dear twig-of-a-brother could lift Five as smoothly as Diego had...

_God_ , she did _not_ want a repeat of that day.

It had been terrifying enough to find out he had been hiding his injury, bleeding out slowly in a serial killer's attic. But it had been entirely different to deal with the aftermath, to have to accept her worry and shove it down as she and Diego had peeled Five off the floor and carefully carried him outside, praying nobody saw them. Her doubts, her worries about him trusting them; everything had to be pushed aside for the sake of his health. Because no matter how much she and the others had tried to convince Five that he was safe with them, that his vulnerabilities were not anything they would exploit, he still had yet to trust. The years of the apocalypse had stripped away what Number Five she could remember from her childhood, replacing him with a feral, hateful old man, a walking, talking contradiction. Those realizations had assaulted her in Jenkins' attic, and again, in the sixties, when the Handler had rained her army down upon them, nearly killing them. Five had fought without bounds, had made to kill as if it were easy, had trusted _no one._

Then again, perhaps he had every right. They were the most dysfunctional family she had ever seen.

A thump behind her had her freezing. Klaus spat out, " _Jesus Christ._ " Allison whirled around to Five, face-down. Luckily for him, he had managed to catch himself on his way down, scraping up his palms and wrists on the sidewalk. But unluckily for them, yet again, Five was unconscious for unknown reasons.

Allison caught a high-pitched whine before it could escape her throat. Her legs were shaking as she ran forward.

She shouldn't have jinxed it...

"Come help me, Klaus." Allison said. She snaked her hands under Five's shoulders and hauled him up off the concrete. He flopped back against her chest, head lolling, burning her skin through her clothes. God, he was too hot, to a point of being an unfathomably dangerous temperature of hot. Grace would be able to fix it, she knew. But that was if Grace was home and not out getting groceries, or running errands for them.

Klaus cooperated, hefting Five's legs off the floor and guiding them back to the car. "He's really warm…" Klaus mumbled, voice low.

"Yeah, I know." Allison sighed.

Holding Five's legs with one arm, Klaus popped open the back door and slipped in, taking their brother with him. Once Five was inside, draped across the back seats, Klaus rounded behind him, stumbling in the footwell on the way. He pulled Five up against his chest and buckled them both in. "Holy guacamole, Allison…" She leapt into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and bringing her car to life. Klaus finished lamely, "He's really sick."

"I _know_ , Klaus." Allison pulled the car from the building.

Just in time, too. She could hear the whine of sirens approaching - police, most likely - and the last thing they needed was to end up in cells with a feverish brother in their midst. Allison brought her car onto the main roads, trying to keep her foot light on the gas lest they draw unnecessary attention to themselves. Her eyes kept flicking to the rearview. She angled it to catch Five's colorless face squished against Klaus' chest. Klaus was stroking Five's dark bangs back, rubbing his thumb over the pulse point in his neck. He was whispering, "you'll be okay, everything will be fine" into Five's hair, staring off into nothing. He looked haunted though, by what, Allison wasn't sure.

The car jerked to a stop in front of the academy. Allison ran out and around, pulling open the door Klaus had been half-leaning against. Together, they managed to maneuver Five inside and up the stairs to his room. They eased him onto the bed and, instantly, Allison made to get him undressed. They needed to get his goddamn temperature down. She started with his shoes, untying the laces with her shaking fingers.

"Go find mom," Allison ordered, eyes jumping to the door. "And get some cold towels and a thermometer. Hurry."

Being a mother had taught her that kids could bounce back quick if given enough rest and help. And being an Umbrella Academy member had served her in good stead: she knew where to put the cold compresses when they came to her, knew what medication Five would need, knew what to do and when to do it. All in _theory_ , though. Just as she, in _theory_ , knew how to stitch a wound, to cauterize an injury, to do a surgery.

All of it was in _theory_.

She wasn't sure how proficient she would be in practice...

Hence, needing Grace.

Allison had wrangled Five out of his blazer, sweater vest, socks, and Oxfords just as Klaus came rushing back inside the room, a wad of wet towels in his hands. "Couldn't find mom."

And of course, she jinxed herself yet again.

Curse her luck.

She took the towels from Klaus. Thankfully, he had wrung them out. Allison pushed Five's fringe away from his forehead and smoothed one out there, then wiggled one under his neck. The third she kept on her lap as she worked free the first buttons of his dress shirt. She laid it over his chest. Five shuddered. When she turned around, Klaus was holding out the thermometer.

"Thanks." She plucked it from his fingers, opened Five's mouth, and stuck it under his tongue.

A moment passed.

Klaus asked, "He wasn't this bad like, what, half an hour ago?" He was beginning to fidget, tapping his fingers against his arms as he folded them tight across his chest.

Allison sighed around the pain swelling in her chest. "He probably just...didn't want to say anything. Didn't want to worry us." That was a lie, she knew. Five had been hiding it, hadn't _trusted_ them, just as before.

"Diego told me about the shrapnel wound." Klaus muttered. "From before the sixties? How he hid it. Think he was doing the same thing?"

"I don't know." Allison repositioned her fingers so they wouldn't cramp while holding the thermometer.

Klaus took a seat next to Allison on the edge of Five's bed. "Well, he's got us, now, so--...I don't know. Maybe he'll stop doing that soon..."

"Maybe…" Allison mumbled.

The thermometer beeped.

One-hundred-four.

No wonder he had passed out. "This goes any higher and we're taking him to a hospital." Allison said. She put the little device on Five's nightstand and moved to the other side of his room, opening the drawers. Five had always been organized, always fastidious about where every single thing went and, so, finding his matching pajama set was easy work for her. She held it up before tossing it onto the bed. "Get him changed. I'll get some meds from downstairs."

"Wait, me?" Klaus gestured to himself, as if he were offended. "What if he wakes up?"

Allison glanced to Five, then back to Klaus. "Doubt he'll remember it. Get him changed, I'll be right back." She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Instantly, she sagged. Allison sucked in a breath, then another, forcing herself to calm down, to just _think_ about all the _theory_ she had learned. When a solid thought formed in her mind, she made for the staircase, her heart pattering in her chest. She was fucking terrified. Sure, medication came next. But what was after that?

Likely, it was waiting.

Allison _knew_ it was waiting.

And _damn_ , did she hate doing that.

There was nothing quite as agonizing as having to wait and see results. When they were younger, back when all seven of them had been crammed in the academy with Grace, Pogo, and their father, there had been a hellish accident involving Diego and his knives. He had stabbed himself in the stomach, resulting in blood everywhere and screams echoing throughout the halls. They had been ten at the time, wide-eyed and unprepared for their father's harsh training. 

Grace had scooped him up and taken him to their infirmary. After a few hours, she had said that Diego would be just fine, that they would merely have to wait for him to wake up.

And wait, Allison had.

She had waited, and waited, and _waited_ until the sun had set. Then, she had waited some more, and more, and _more_ , until finally, in the morning, Diego had opened his eyes. The wound had turned out to be relatively superficial despite the dramatics attached to it. Though, Allison had felt as if, in that moment, she were going to collapse from the fear. It had bloated in her gut, making her nauseous, leaving her with the urgency to pace, to move, to run from what was happening.

Time had changed nothing, it seemed. She was still the same little girl. Just as when Diego had gotten stabbed, when Ben had been struck down and _killed_ , when Five had passed out from a shrapnel wound and, now, again, with him laying in bed, unconscious…

Allison could barely breathe around her panic.

She rushed to the infirmary and threw open the cabinets, scouring for pills. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen may help with the fever, but only barely. And that still didn't mean Five wasn't dehydrated, or malnourished, or sleep deprived, the little bastard. He had wiggled his way out of even the most basic of human needs, somehow, but now, he was paying the price. His body had given up so quickly, she suspected, because he was so worn down.

Yanking open cabinet after cabinet, Allison practically ripped apart the drawers. Her fingers were trembling as she lifted pill bottle after pill bottle, desperate for just _one thing_ to go right today.

"Allison, darling?"

She flipped around to Grace hovering in the doorway.

Instantly, Allison deflated. Relief left her cold. " _Mom._ Five's sick. He has a fever of one-hundred-four, and--"

"Oh dear." Her programming made her sound softer, but Allison could see the urgency in her step. Grace glided around Allison, grabbing things - needle, tape, IV stand, medicine bags - before slipping out of the infirmary.

She led them upstairs.

Klaus had done as he was told, changing Five into his pajamas. Grace nodded to Klaus, saying, "hello dear" before stopping at Five's bedside. She moved with calculation, rolling up Five's sleeve and slipping the IV needle in. He didn't stir. Grace propped the metal stand on its legs and set up the drip bags: saline, and medicine, it looked like.

"You did well, you two. I will take care of it from here." Grace smiled up at them. "Now, why don't you go rest? I'll make some lunch. How does butternut squash soup sound?"

"That's fine, mom…" Allison whispered. Her eyes stayed on Five.

Next to her, Klaus nodded tightly in agreement.

They dipped out of the bedroom, letting Grace get to work. Despite it seeming to take decades, the afternoon eventually faded away, disappearing with the sunset. As night rolled around, Allison found that she couldn't wait any longer. She _needed_ to see Five, or to at least know how he was fairing. Gently, Allison crossed the hallway and stopped at his closed door. She raised her fist to knock.

On the other side, it sounded as if Five were choking.

Then, a violent retch, a groan--

Allison swallowed her pity. She flung the door open.

Five glared up at her from where he was leaned over himself, a rather large bucket dwarfing his slight frame, propping him upright. His cheek rested on one of his arms that had settled on the wide plastic rim. He weakly raised his eyebrows to her.

The room stank of vomit.

She gagged. Though she tried to stifle it by turning away, Five still noticed.

"Whoops." His voice was gravel. Venom dripped from his words. "Maybe...you should leave. Don't want to puke, too, right?"

"I really don't, no." Allison mumbled. She stepped in further, moving around the bed to haul open Five's window. It shrieked, rubber seals worn by time. "But I'm not leaving, either, so…" With the fresh air coming in, Allison already felt better. The sick smell was washing away, leaving the room stale with city air, but she would take that over vomit-scent any day.

Allison sat down at the foot of his bed.

Five didn't look impressed. Hell, he even managed to pull a frustrated scowl onto his face.

"Go away." he snarled.

"Why?" she asked.

He huffed. His shoulders dropped. " _Allison._ " Five's voice was low.

" _Five._ " she mocked. After a moment, she continued, "Relax, I'm just here to keep you company for a bit." Allison said those words, but she was sure that Five knew just as well as she did: she was lying. Sure, Allison wanted to keep Five company, but the main reason for her being there was purely selfish. Seeing him alive, getting better, was like a drug to her. Her heart slowed and softened its angry beats whenever she saw her siblings okay, and when they smiled, or relaxed, or were able to sleep through the night, she found peace. Why he had yet to grasp that, why he had continued to _evade_ and pretend as if he didn't matter, was beyond her.

Five mumbled something into the bucket, something she couldn't quite catch. Allison leaned closer, ready to ask him to repeat himself before she was cut off with Five's stomach clenching, punching the air out of him as he threw up again. Allison winced. She scooted forward, dropping a hand to his shoulder.

He bristled under her touch, but didn't pull away. Though, Allison wasn't sure that was because he had secretly wanted the touch, or if it was because he was simply too weak to move away. She prayed for the former.

Five clenched the bucket closer as his insides revolted again, this time leaving him spitting up nothing but saliva and strained breaths. He wilted against the bucket with a winded sigh.

Allison asked, "Does mom know what it is?"

"Stomach flu." Five gasped. "Or...so she says." He coughed into the bucket.

"I trust her scan." Allison shrugged as casually as she could.

Five hummed in agreement.

After another moment, he mumbled, "You can go…" He looked a picture of pity, his tiny body unable to even sit up properly without the bucket's help.

Allison's heart squeezed. "I'm staying."

More seconds passed, and those bled into minutes, each second punctuated with Five's heavy breaths. He had begun mumbling incoherently halfway through her waiting, uttering something about his equations being off, about the timeline being botched. Allison had humored her likely-delirious brother, letting him talk and talk until he had tired himself out. When he quieted, Allison scooched even closer. She gingerly maneuvered the bucket from his arms, helping to ease him back against the pillows.

He was completely out cold before she could stand up. Allison tried to be as quiet as possible as she tiptoed out of his room, bucket in hand. She emptied the contents, washed it, and brought it back to Five, only to find him exactly how she had left him: passed out, breathing hard, his body fighting with everything it had to kick the virus. She stepped closer and squatted down. In his urgency to puke, he had tossed his wet rags to his nightstand. Allison freshened them up in the bathroom before going back to his room and settling one back on his forehead. The other she used to brush over what little exposed skin he had showing on his neck, his hands, his cheeks.

Five continued to sleep as she worked. Allison was fine with that, so long as she continued to rest and recover. It was a small display of trust on his part, something she had craved and, so, in the end, her busywork was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I...I'm not sure I should take responsibility for this. I wrote it from like - I shit you not - 3am to, eh, 5am? 6am. I just didn't fucking sleep. And I'm not going to edit it, because if I edit it now after pulling an all-nighter, absolutely _nothing_ is going to make sense.
> 
> So, apologies for all the... _mess_.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Check out my Tumblr, [@itty-bitty-rampaging-committee](https://itty-bitty-rampaging-committee.tumblr.com/)! If you want, that is...


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